True Happiness
by storywriter126
Summary: An oneshot about what Apollo's life was like as an orphan child, and his reactions after he found out that he actually had a living mother. Based on a writing stimulus sentence: 'Her smile was a welcoming beacon and I was no longer alone'…


_**Hello and thank you in advance for choosing to read this story :) This is my first time writing for Ace Attorney so please forgive me and let me know if there are any errors **__**which**__** must be edited! This is an oneshot of how Apollo would've felt when he found out that Thalassa Gramarye was his mother**__** and how he felt before he found**__** that he had a living mother. The story is based on a writing stimulus sentence 'Her smile was a welcoming beacon and I was no longer alone'**__**. I purposely didn't include Trucy in the story since I wanted this story to be Apollo-centric. I apologise if Apollo seems a bit OOC…**_

_**So…yeah, enjoy! And Pleeeeaaaaasssseeee review! :D**_

_**Disclaimers: I do not own the Ace Attorney series- all rights go to CAPCOM, the creators of this amazing creation. I'm just one of the many fans out there…wanting Gyakuten Kenji 2 to be localised! Hehe…**_

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Obsidian heart. That was the perfect description of what my shell had housed for the last 23 years. Hardened quickly amongst the tempests of life that came way too quickly for me...It would endure the uttermost suffering with little determination and resilience to do so, but at the same time, it was so fragile that it would scar and crumble from the littlest shocks. My heart hid a never-healing scar spilling blood in a form of tears, its hollowness deepening as years passed. Yet...just a few days ago, on that fateful day...My heart was at last complete.

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I was born in a small family, the wife being a worldly-famous magician and the husband being a business man with considerate amount of success. I was a child like any other, being safeguarded under the sanctuary of love my parents provided. Yet, all too soon, that barrier had to be forced down. Dad died in a fatal car accident when I was merely two years old, my eyes barely open to the wide world I was yet to discover. Mum had spiralled down into months of depression, drowning in the tears she shed over the death of her beloved partner. She suffered from aphasia, she attempted suicide, she tried anything and everything to avert her mind from the cruel reality bestowed upon her. And that was when she made her final, ultimate decision…for her child's sake.

It was a lightly snowing morning when a small cradle arrived at the doorsteps of Orpheus Nursery. The caretaker barely took notice of it under the blanket of white sparkling snow, until she heard a soft cry beneath the ground. Inside was a two-and-a-half year old baby, his face scarlet from the winter's chill wrapped gently inside layers of blankets. On the side of the cradle rested a small note, reading: "Please take care of my child...and please tell him that I am sorry."

To be honest, the fact that I was an orphan child never struck a chord until my years in primary school began. There was this boy who would tell me that my mum had abandoned me, and I had always tried to deny and rebuke his statement, believing that my foster mother was in fact my real mother. I've tried to ignore him, yet no matter how much I attempted to divert my eyes from the taunts he presented, my psyche would somehow make a soft spot for him to combat again. That was when my actions came first before my thoughts- when I regained my composure my clenched fists had already smitten across the bully's face. That afternoon, I was called to the principal's office. After a walk of shame across the corridor and the wait of condemnation (which seemed to last an eternity, mind you), the principal at last called me inside and started a conversation, with my class teacher by the side.

"What is your name, boy?" The principal demanded sternly, his piercingly sharp eyes glaring at my direction.

"...Apollo, sir." I mumbled, frightened by the chill emitting from his icily turquoise eyes. His glare was impaling my skin like icicles piercing my body and I flinched as I saw that slight movement of his brows furrowing.

"I have asked for your full name, boy." He commanded with a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Sir, may I interrupt?" The teacher explained. "This boy does not have a last name."

"And why is that, may I ask?"

"It is because he does not have a family, sir." The teacher's pitiful gaze met the hazel eyes of mine. "He is an orphaned child."

That was when the truth behind my identity dawned at me. I was an outsider, a person who never belonged no matter where he was. I was never cared by anyone, and I was never going to be. My identity had been long lost- I was practically a 'living dead' without any connections to the world.

Yeah…I was an orphaned child…

But I never intended to let my heart soften at such discouragement. I learnt to accept the fact and adapt to it, living an independent life and relying on nothing but myself. I have given myself a last name for the time being, adopting it from one of the caretakers in the orphanage. I learnt to place a façade of a dapper-clothed boy chocked-full of wits (well, more like sarcasm) and intelligence, just to hide the fears and uncertainty that haunted me non-stop. Who was I? Why was I here? That was a question which I, nor people around me, could answer. I was tired of doubting myself. I was tired of being angry at my parents who had abandoned me, whoever they could be. I was tired of the little attempts I would make to at least try remembering the tiniest trace of my parents' love. I was tired of dreaming of a life I would never have- being a son of a prosperous, loving household. But most importantly of all, I was tired of just being _tired._ Tiredness was not an option, where I had to survive in this unrelenting society.

My efforts had at least helped me achieve my _materialistic _dream- the dream of having fame, wealth and respect in the broad palms of mine. I became a criminal defence lawyer with a perfect record, a protégé of a legendary lawyer Phoenix Wright and passing on his legacy of turning impossible cases around. I thought I had done enough, done enough to find happiness.

But I was still far from happy. I had no intimate relationship by my side. I was merely living a life enlightening myself under the artificial light I strived to bathe in.

For me...happiness was so close, yet so far away.

One day, one of my past clients had come to visit me. It was nothing out of ordinary, since many of my clients returned to the firm to express gratitude of their or their friend's acquittal. Her name was Lamiroir, a mysterious singer with the most serene and mesmerising voice who stood as a witness of my second trial - the trial of her pianist, Machi Tobaye. The first time I met her, she had kept her face obscured under a star-scattered cloak and a semi-transparent mask, and she suffered from a severe amnesia as well as permanent blindness. Yet in my second meeting with her she did not wear the cloak, or the mask. Her sheer beauty was exposed; her white dress flowing gracefully and a bracelet resembling mine worn on her slender wrist. She stated that her memory had returned after receiving an eye operation, and I was truly grateful for it. It was when she dropped a bomb our seemingly-casual conversation of salutations I, at last, realised why this woman, without the garments obscuring her true self, seemed so familiar to me.

Lamiroir, a person who once stood as a witness in my case…was in fact my mother, Thalassa Gramarye.

That resolved the mystery behind the bracelet which I had worn since the time I couldn't recall. I thought it was merely a gift the nursery had given me on my fifth birthday...but it was in fact the other pair of the bracelet that she wore. It was her last birthday gift she had given to her first child…

...And her appearance was my twenty-third birthday present...probably the best gift I ever received in my life.

"Happy birthday...Apollo." She hummed with her hazel eyes meeting mine.

And for the first time, I felt as a part of this world. Not an outsider who did not belong, but a 'someone' 'somebody' cared. I had a living family. I had someone of my kin remaining in this world. And for this I thanked for being alive. Alive to be able to witness the miraculous moment of reunion knowing that I was never walking alone by the sidewalk of this world.

...Her smile was a welcoming beacon and I was no longer alone.


End file.
